Does This Darkness Have a Name?
by Mellurker
Summary: "I was never supposed to be with you, not like this. You and I were never meant to end up in these games together." The mayor's daughter is thrown into the games, along with the infamous Gale Hawthorne.
1. The Boy with the Strawberries

My nerves are getting to me, I realize, as I fix my dress for the tenth time.

Leave it to Gale Hawthorne to stress me out. After his comment on my dress earlier, I've been unable to sit straight in the crisp white garment. I pull at my socks, suddenly realizing how much lower the left one is in comparison to the right.

"You look lovely, my dear." I jump slightly at the sudden exclamation and look back. My father smiles wearily at me as he enters my room, coming to rest his arm on my shoulder.

"Thank you, daddy." I smile appreciatively at him, straightening the bow in my hair for the third time. He checks his watch, paling only slightly. "Just about time now, we mustn't be late, Madge." He shuffles me forward, bringing me to the foot of the stairs, before pausing.

"Madge, remember that I love you. Very, very much." He pulls me into his arms, as he has done every year. My voice is muffled through the thick fabric of his waistcoat as I return the sentiment.

"I love you too, daddy."

* * *

All of the sixteen year old girls stand in a perfectly formed group, not saying a word to one another. Delly Cartwright has tried to comfort a few of the girls, but her attempts are futile; the time of the reaping is near and the people have begun to retreat into themselves in a vain attempt of protection. I stand to the back, looking at my feet and analyzing my glossy black shoes. There's a scuff on the right that I can't recall from last year's reaping day.

I push back my white skirts and let out a sigh; I feel absolutely restless, as if I've been standing here for a good hour. I almost begin to wish that Delly would come and talk to me, but her new-found silence proves that she too has lost her drive. I know that it has only been about ten minutes, yet the reaping has a way of clawing into your heart and delivering a feeling of terror that seems to travel throughout your bloodstream, a feeling that impedes you from proper thought or movement. I feel the terror spread, until it settles to my stomach. Doubts creep into my mind, and I have already begun to brace myself for the worst.

My hands slightly shake as I run my fingers through my knotted hair. I lift my eyes to view the other girls around me, hoping to meet a familiar face. I see Katniss with her younger sister, Primrose, trying to calm her sobbing. The poor girl is facing her first year in the reaping, and I feel a pang in my heart as I watch the peacekeepers pull her away to her respective place. I know that her likelihood of being called is dim, as is mine; only being in the draw six times. Even so, long ago the citizens of Panem learned that luck plays no part in these games.

I look ahead at the stage, hearing the clock strike two. Slowly, my father saunters his way to the center, clearing his throat. He begins his annual speech, and I try to listen, though my efforts seem futile as I begin to drift away from his words. My attention flies to my mockingjay pin, as I push my fingers along the sharp edges. The golden pin had once been my aunt Maysilee's, not long before her untimely death in these very games.

I wear the pin with my dress each year. My father holds a form of hope in the small pin; he sees it as a symbol of good fortune. I would be lying if I said I understood why, as my aunt hadn't survived her own games. Yet, I continue to wear the pin- not only for my father, but also for my mother and for my long passed aunt.

The smooth surface soothes my nerves, and I find myself looking back up the to stage as my father introduces Haymitch Abernathy, the victor of the very same games my aunt had lost. Slowly, the drunken man walks up the stage, staggering slightly too close to the edge. I see Effie Trinket yelp as he reaches around to give her a hug, and a few of the younger children giggle at the sight. Haymitch looks puzzled for a moment, before falling down into a seat on the stage, taking another sip from a little silver flask he holds.

My father shines a bright shade of red, and if the situation wasn't so serious I probably would have giggled.

"Yes, well. Please let me introduce the lovely Effie Trinket!" Effie Trinket is infamous in our town, though only seen once a year. However, it isn't her brightly coloured clothing, or her various powdered wigs that make her famous. Rather, it's her ridiculous capitol accent.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" _Oh yes, _that's definitely why she's famous in District 12. Effie rambles off about how pleased she is to be in our district, and how she sees our success in the near future. I see a few less than happy faces and begin to silently plead that she hurries up.

"Now, I'm _sure_ we're all dying to know who will be called!" I doubt that she actually understands how accurate her statement is.

"Ladies first, shall we?"

Slowly, she reaches her hand into one of the bowls and pulls a name. Opening it up, she reads it for a few moments before taking a step forward.

"District 12's female tribute this year will be... Madge Undersee!"

I almost forget to breathe, all of the blood rushes from my head. _Me? Me, Madge?_ The thought begins to process and I can feel my legs grow heavy. Someone pushes lightly on my back, and that's all it takes for me to get moving. I begin to walk towards the stage, praying that this is a joke. Yet, my entire being is telling me that it quite clearly isn't. I reach the stage and Effie smiles at me,"Well, this _is _exciting! The mayor's daughter! My, my!" I find myself nodding, slowly turning to face the crowd.

I look over to my father, hoping that he can do something, _anything._ His face reflects pain and defeat; he also understands what these games mean for me. I'm tiny, innocent Madge Undersee, mayor's daughter. I was never trained to work, kill or survive. I'm not going to come out of the arena alive.

A lump has begun to form in my throat and all I want to do is run away from the constricting crowd, yet I continue to stare forward.

"Gentlemen, now!" This time Effie reads quickly, probably because the capitol is growing impatient. Most people probably don't even want to tune in and watch our reaping; District 12 is unimportant in the games.

"Gale Hawthorne!" Oh no, not Gale. Not my strawberry boy, not Katniss' _best friend. _Gale has a family to look after and feed, unlike myself. Gale has others who depend on him, friends and family who will miss him. I look sadly at Katniss, watching her struggle to remain calm. I know her well enough to understand that she is terrified to see her friend enter the games. I feel almost intrusive, and turn my eyes away from the sight. This time I look at Gale, expecting to see pain in his squinted grey eyes.

Instead, I see anger. Gale walks with purpose, and although his lips are set in a straight line I can see the slight slope of his eyebrows, and the rage that grows behind his calm facade.

He climbs the stage and comes to stand beside me. His large frame overshadows my small form, and I cannot help but feel ridiculous. Effie rushes up and stands in between the two of us, right in front of the camera.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present District 12's tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games! Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne! Please shake hands!" I put my small hand in his large one and we briefly shake them before we're ushered inside, where the peacekeepers split us into two separate rooms.

I faintly recognize the room I'm placed in; when I was a child I'd ran throughout this building multiple times. Hide and seek with the guards had always been my favorite past time, and despite the time that has passed I see familiarity in the room. At the current moment, I can't help but find the memory to be a small comfort.

Almost instantly the door squeaks open, and my father steps in, supporting my mother on his right arm. He seats her on the leather sofa before engulfing me in a hug. "Oh, my dear Madge. My dear, dear Madge. I would give anything to change this, please understand." I sigh and nod, burrowing into his familiar warmth.

"Daddy, I'm scared." The tears begin to arrive, and I don't try to hide them. I let myself cry away my fear, until I find myself unable to cry any longer.

My father leads me to the sofa, and my heart aches as his familiar warmth pulls away from me.

I sit gently beside my mother. She smiles wearily at me. "I have faith in you, Madge. Just remember my love for you." I smile softly and hug my mother. "I'm glad you came, mother." We sit for a moment, with our hands entwined. My mother closes her eyes and begins to hum a tune from my childhood. I hum along, and for the moment, our family is at peace again.

A moment later the door is opened, a peacekeeper walks in and wordlessly gestures that it is time to go. We all stand, my father supporting my mother. I hug them once again and place a kiss on my mother's cheek. "I love you both."

My parents both nod in understanding, before slowly walking to the door. I smile sadly at my father as he looks back once more, aware that this may be the last time that I see his face. The doors slam shut behind them, and I let out a shaking breath.

A moment later, a single knock sounds on the door and I rush to open it, hoping to see another familiar face. It almost comes as a shock once I see Katniss standing behind it.

"Do you mind if I…?" She hesitates in her question and I smile lightly, welcoming her in. "Why would I mind? I'm _glad_ you came." We both take a seat on the sofa, and I wait for her to speak. She sighs and takes my hand gently. "Madge, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." I expect this, and signal for her to pause.

"Katniss, it sounds mad, but I understand. I could never possibly ask you to favor me over Gale. You and Gale are practically family. It's _alright _if you want him to win. I know you, and I know that you probably feel guilty, but you have nothing to feel guilty about. I'm not hurt, I understand."

She freezes, and I briefly wonder if I've said too much. Yet, I realize that I haven't once I see her face.

"I wasn't going to say that, Madge." I squeeze her hand in mine. "But it was there, Katniss. In the back of your mind. Understand that I just don't want you to worry. I _know_ you." I see her struggle to find any words, and at once I know that she can't possibly deny it.

A sudden knock on the door symbolizes the end of our meeting, and Katniss pulls me into a rare hug.

"Madge, I'm still supporting you. Both of you." I smile wistfully at her as she leaves, though she doesn't turn back.

Grabbing a book off the shelf, I turn the pages idly with my shaking hands. Five minutes pass, and the door is opened. In pops the bright face of Effie Trinket, smiling at me. "Are you all ready, now?" I nod and mindlessly throw the book back on the shelf before making my way to the door. Outside I see Gale, although, he won't look up to acknowledge any of us. Effie leads us down a hallway, muttering on about the beauty of the capitol, and how much we'll see on the way there. I vaguely listen; I find myself once again focusing on the edges of my pin.

Once we reach the doors leading outside, we're lead into a shining black car. Even as the mayor's daughter, I've never been accustomed to such luxuries. The ride to the station is quick, and I recognize this as my last chance to see the streets of District 12. We catch first sight of the station, and soon the train. It's large and silver, and I find myself gaping at the sheer length of it. Why in the world would we need all of that room? Effie nearly squeals in joy, and grabs at my hand, anxious to settle in.

The door is opened for us and Effie leads the way into the train. Walking in I'm greeted with leather sofas, silk curtains, and tables upon tables of colourful foods. My eyes are unable to rest on one thing, and I find myself looking at Gale in amazement. His body remains rigid, though his eyes betray him as they feast on the luxurious meal.

"Milo will lead you to your rooms, he's just right over there." Effie waves us off and we reluctantly head over to Milo, a small man with orange hair and black rimmed eyes. He silently leads us to two separate rooms, right across from each other "You may choose which one you would like, and do what you please. Keep in mind that dinner is in one hour." And without another word he scurries off in another direction.

I turn to Gale, and he looks at the door to his left. "I'll take this one, I guess." His voice sounds gruff and I simply nod, unsure of what I can say.

Without another word, Gale exits the hallway, and I'm left standing there.

I decide that I'll make the effort to speak with him tomorrow, seeing that he'd probably be my only company for the next while.

Once I enter my room, I take in the different appliances, some of which even I don't understand. I have no clue why a room is so necessary when the ride to the capitol will take less than a full day. I take my time and look around the large area, making note of every new appliance I discover. I find a strange tube that instantly blows hair dry, a strange button which fluffs pillows, and a perfume dispenser with scents ranging from water lily to chocolate. Though, in the end, my favourite piece of furniture is the large bed sitting in the middle of the room.

I allow myself to fall into it's silk sheets and feathery pillows, and once I'm comfortable I close my eyes. I feel the train move lightly, and it becomes an almost relaxing motion. I picture the faces of those I love, and wonder what they're doing at this moment. Is my father sitting in his office, working to keep himself preoccupied? Is my mother lying in her bed, unaware of the world surrounding her- drowning her thoughts with morphine? And is Katniss with her family, or Gale's?

Laying there, the fact sinks in that I've left home, and all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and pretend that this has all been one big, horrible dream.

* * *

**Hello (:**

_Basically, I can never write the first chapter in a way that satisfies me. So, please tell me if it's good enough. To be honest, I'm excited to get further into this story; I have a feeling things might get easier once they progress._

_Either way, I'm pretty rusty._

_I did go through and rewrite chapter one though, and I'm feeling a bit better about the length._

_Anyways, it isn't super long, but it's not super short, so…_

_Enjoy? x_


	2. Of Anger and Drinking

I awaken to the incessant screaming of Effie Trinket, who, as it appears, is angry that I'm not at the table eating dinner. She doesn't slam on the door, or stomp her feet, she just _screams_. Once I'm positive my head may crack open, I grumpily walk to the door and proceed to open it. Facing me is a red-faced, curly haired _monster_.

In a huff, she begins to repeat each and every word that had previously been thrown at my door.

"This isn't ladylike! How can you expect to survive the games if you can't even wake up in time? Hmm? You even missed dinner last night! Absolutely irresponsible! And your hair!" Her face is a horrific red, and I smile lightly.

"Nothing we can't fix, Effie. It's just hair." Her face grows to be a deeper red, and she begins to storm off.

"Breakfast! Now!"

I go back into my room and dress quickly. Running back out, I begin to walk the same way that Effie left. I walk towards the end of the train and it's when I smell a magnificent scent that I know I'm close to the dining room.

I finally reach a bright red door which leads me to the dining room, and once inside I'm able to breath in the scent of the food. Looking around, I find Gale sitting quietly at a large table in the middle of the room, vaguely listening to Effie gossip. On the left of the table is another counter, covered with an array of exotic foods. There are strange twisting pastries covered in red syrup, soups from white to purple, and even a large pig laid out on a silver platter. I'm instantly pulled over to a strange yellow pasta which smells strongly of fish.

I take a seat across the table from Gale, who appears to be having a personal dilemma. I watch as he eyes the roasted pig hungrily, yet he makes no move to grab a piece. I suddenly realize _why _Gale is so hesitant to eat any of these foods; he's still thinking about his family back home.

Growing up in the wealthier side of District 12, I never really had to worry about food on my table. Of course, growing up surrounded by starvation, I was very grateful for what I had. I know that Gale has fought his whole life in order to feed his family, and seeing all of this wasted food makes him struggle.

"Gale?"

He looks up, surprised. "Hmm?"

I smile at him and point to the pig. "Would you like me to cut you some?"

His grey eyes grow angry at me. "I don't need you to cut my food for me, Madge. I'm capable of doing things myself. In fact, I'm sure I could use that knife much better than you can."

His reference to the games is not missed, and I stutter, trying to find any words in order to retort. I can only mutter a quick apology.

"Well, sorry for trying to be polite."

I angrily grab the knife and begin to cut myself a piece of the pig, when a server comes over to take the knife from my hands. "Madge, ladies don't serve themselves!" Effie pipes in, and all I'd like to do is pipe _her._

"I'm sorry I'm not going to be ladylike enough when I head to my death sentence, Effie." I growl, still frustrated at the boy across from me. Effie looks hurt at my comment, and though I'm still annoyed, this time I'm only annoyed with myself. I didn't mean to upset her when she'd done nothing wrong.

"Look, Effie. I'm sorry, I had no reason to lash out at you." I half-heartedly apologize. She is quick to forgive, thankfully. Almost instantly she smiles happily at me; all is well with us again.

I look back up at Gale, who's slowly cutting into a thick piece of pig leg. He's holding his knife wrong, and I feel a strong urge to teach him proper utensil use, though I come to realize that perhaps that isn't the best idea, given the circumstances.

I notice that the server has laid out some meat for me as well, and I begin to eat. Eventually, the three of us are all digging in. The rest of dinner is quiet, with a rare comment from Effie every so often.

Dinner progresses to desert. Desert is a thick chocolate cake, and I don't recall ever tasting anything so wonderful. I find myself watching Gale once again, as he tastes the sweet flavour for the first time in his life. His eyes light up and the cake lasts less than ten minutes.

Once our meal is finished, we all head into the next compartment in order to see our competition. My stomach knots up when the thought hits. _Competition_, slowly the realization dawns on me that any of these people could be the one that kills me. My throat constricts, and my food suddenly feels restless in my stomach.

All of a sudden I wish that I was back in my room, lying in my comfortable bed, away from the rest of the world. And once we begin to watch the reapings in each district, the urge to crawl away and hide becomes stronger.

I make mental notes on a few of the tributes, such as those from District 2. The boy had volunteered, which means that he is _more_ than ready for these games, though the size of his arms could have suggested that anyways. District 5 has a sharp eyed girl with gorgeous red hair, she steps onto the stage without fear.

Not many others stand out, until District 11 comes along. I gasp as a small little girl walks up the stage. How in the world could anyone send such a small thing into the games? She'll be slaughtered! I look at Gale, and he looks as angry as I feel. I wait in silent hopes that someone will volunteer, yet nobody does. I can't help but compare her to someone like Prim, someone who is so unable to defend themselves from the other tributes. I watch as the girl bravely stares ahead, waiting for the male tribute to be called.

Eventually a massive boy is called onto the stage, and the contrast between the two is significant. I had thought that Gale and I looked ridiculous, but now I understood that we didn't have the worst of it.

Now District 12 begins to show, and I watch as my name is called again. My pink bow and pale hair make me a black sheep in the crowd, and I cringe at the sight. My steps are slow and it takes me a while to reach the stage. Once I do, Effie briefly introduces my place in society, and all I do is nod.

I feel my face turn red in embarrassment; clearly I presented no threat to the other tributes. They were probably watching this and laughing right now. Maybe the boy from District 2 was considering how well my bones would work as toothpicks?

The clip shows Haymitch falling off the stage, and the announcers make a rude comment that makes me blush. Gale is called up and as he stands next to me on the stage, I realize that he's a _very_ formidable opponent, in comparison to tiny little Madge Undersee, the mayor's daughter. Gale will be a career, I don't doubt it.

My eyes lower to my hands, and I begin to play with my mockingjay pin again, trying to hold back my worries.

But I can't get past the fact that Gale will be hunting me. The boy sitting across from me would probably be the one to find me and stab me in the back, quite literally.

Effie begins to fuss over the portrayal that District 12 now has.

"Haymitch made an absolute foolery of the whole event! That man needs to learn some manners!"I giggle and Gale looks at Effie as if she were the dirt at the bottom of his boots.

"He's drunk."

With her lips pursed, she nodded. "Effie, he's _always _drunk." Gale adds. I nod, showing my agreement. Effie stands up, huffing. "I'm fully aware! It's absolutely appalling!"

I giggle again, and I briefly see a smile flit across Gale's face. Yet, as soon as I'd seen it, it was gone. "I honestly cannot understand how you plan to survive with that _mess _as your mentor! My goodness, the way he nearly fell on me earlier, how embarrassing! I could have toppled right over!" I finally allow myself to laugh, and Effie sends a sharp glare in my direction.

"How about you try and get through these games without his help, and then we'll see how funny his irresponsibility really is!"

This is the same time that the man of the moment makes his grand entrance into the room.

I take note of his slightly pale appearance, and the slight stagger in his steps. "Maysilee…" His voice is light, and I faintly recognize what he's said. Maysilee? Though, as soon as I stand up to question Haymitch, he's vomiting right over Effie Trinket's shoes.

A shrill shriek echoes throughout the train and Effie is running out of the room with a trail of sickness behind her. Looking back between the two men, I try to process what I should do next. Should I call someone in to clean this? The smell of vomit drifts throughout the room and I inwardly gag.

As if the whole scene wasn't terrifying enough, Haymitch suddenly lets out a groan and faints into the pile of his own waste. I jump back, nearly tripping over the sofa.

"Lousy." Gale hisses.

"Well, he's all we've got, Gale! So how about instead of sitting there, you get up and help me move him!" I growl, kneeling down beside the unconscious man. I scowl at the bile surrounding him, yet reach over his shoulder in order to pull him up.

As I begin to turn him around, another pair of rough hands comes to my help. I stop for a moment, analyzing the calloused and stained hands. The hands of a worker. _Gale's hands._

"Well, are you gonna start lifting?" Gale's voice is sharp, and I begin to lift Haymitch. We finally stand as a trio, and Gale and I drag the man to the sofa.

"We need to find out where his room is." I sigh, looking down the hallway that he had originally come from. "Must be down there."

Gale groans. "Jesus, Madge. It's his fault. I don't see why we have to tow his drunken ass around the train."

"Well we can't just leave him here!" I argue, but Gale just shrugs. "I don't see why not."

I sigh, and begin to pull at Haymitch's unconscious body again. Gale watches me struggle for a moment before coming to my aid. He picks our mentor up and looks at me.

"Where now?"

I point back at the previously mentioned hallway, and we begin our search. I lead Gale through a few hallways, and it is finally after a bit of help from an avox that we manage to get him into his bedroom. Gale throws him onto the bed, and I look at the ragged man. Vomit still laces his clothes and hair, and I know we can't leave him like that.  
"Gale, we need to clean him. He's filthy!" Gale is half-way out of the door at this point, and all he does is throw a look back into the room, before continuing on his way.

How can he expect me to do this? I will most definitely _not _be undressing Haymitch Abernathy at any point in my life.

I decide to at least remove his jacket, muttering profanities at Gale Hawthorne whilst I do it. He honestly left me here to do this alone! He was temperamental, arrogant, insufferable, and every type of rude!

I throw the dirty jacket into the laundry basket and make my way over to the phone. I'd need to call someone from the capitol for something like this. After making sure that everything is under control I make my way to my room, ready for a long awaited shower.

Though, once I reach my door, I see Gale sitting outside of his. Instead of approaching him, I make the quick decision that ignoring him would be just as effective. I quickly reach my bedroom, yet his voice stops me in my tracks.

"He's not our only hope, you know?" His voice is gruff, like usual. It sends a chill down my back. I don't turn, I just stand there.

"We have our sponsors, and we have our instincts. We already know how to survive, Madge." I sigh, and my cover breaks. "Gale, you may have instincts, but I don't. I don't have any clue how I'll survive out there, and I've never been in the wild." He scoffs, and I already know what he'll say. "That's because you don't need to learn how. You're the mayor's daughter, poster child for rich kids."

I want to turn and shout at his ignorance, yet a simple glare suffices. I open the door and walk away; any shower would be better than a conversation with Gale Hawthorne.

* * *

Apparently the trip is a bit longer than I had originally assumed, yet I don't mind the warm beds or delicious food. Everything you could possibly need is provided here, and the silence is something that I hang onto. I understand that once I reach the Capitol silence will be rare, and privacy will be nearly nonexistent. I'll be entered into a world unlike my own, with complex trends and expectations.

And so, when I wake up the following morning to find clothing at the edge of my bed, I am thankful for it. I enjoy the simple nature of the clothes they give me, a black shirt and brown pants.

Getting ready, I begin to smell breakfast, and I rush out of my door and to the dining room.

Breakfast is different today, and I find myself stacking my plate high with sweet pancakes and syrup. I continue to taste interesting new flavours, and for a few moments I find myself closing my eyes in pure delight. Though, my moment is ruined as the familiar _clunk _of Gale's boots enters the room. I open my eyes as he takes his seat.

Effie scolds him for his lateness, and he does a rare thing. He _apologizes_.

I'm a silent person, and in that I've learned the art of listening. I've listened to people from District 12 many times, and I can say that I have _never _heard Gale Hawthorne apologize. Not when he tripped Becka Oriane from English class, not when he yelled at his younger brother for swearing, and not when he accidentally dropped the rabbit that Katniss had caught last spring.

I almost want to laugh, though I hold it in. Gale Hawthorne finally says sorry, and it's because he's late. The world really is a strange place.

I think of how Katniss would react, and I find myself yearning to see my only friend. Poor Katniss; she must be truly worried. If not for me at all, then definitely for her best friend and hunting partner. I feel my throat constricting at the thought, and I convince myself that she's been thinking about me as well.

Another door slams and we all look up to see Haymitch, clean and dressed. He carries a coffee mug and I question if it's actually filled with the hot drink. My father was always a big fan of coffee, though I never understood the value of the bitter beverage. Yet, I'd prefer it over liquor any day.

Haymitch takes a seat at the end of the table and if he's hungry, he doesn't show it. Instead of taking a plate, he pulls out his flask and pours a clear liquid into his coffee. "Morning." His voice sounds raw and I assume that it's due to the little water he's had. I smile tightly and take another bite of my pancakes.

Effie upholds the conversation for a while, though I can see that she's still in a huff about her shoes. Eventually, she demands that an apology is made, and Haymitch shows no sign of complying to her demands. Instead he grabs a pickled onion from a pile and pops it into his mouth. Effie lets out a shrill noise and leaves the room, as I expected.

Everything is quiet again, and my plate is clean. I clear my throat and cut through the silence. "So, Haymitch… what will we be covering today?"

His face shows boredom as he takes a swig of his drink. "Covering?"

"Well, you're supposed to be giving us advice, right?"

Haymitch slams his cup onto the table, and turns towards me in his chair. "Kid, here's some advice, stay alive." He laughs at his own joke, and in a quick second Gale is out of his chair and lifting Haymitch up by his collar.

"You think this is a joke? Because I'll be damned if you're the reason that we die. Now, I may think that you're as good as a piece of shit, but the lady here seems to think you'll be of some kind of value. So how about you get off your ass and teach us something."

I stand from my seat, hands to my chest. We're supposed to be a team, yet here we are, fighting. I expect Haymitch to lash out at Gale, so the shock is evident on my face once Haymitch smiles.

Gale slowly sets him down, and if he's surprised he doesn't show it. Haymitch wheezes, and sits back down in his chair. "Appears we may have a fighter this year. Now, little girl, what have _you_ got to offer?"

I stumble at my words, not completely sure what I _do_ have to offer. "I-I… I don't really know." I look down at my hands, suddenly aware of how unblemished they are. I think of Gale's hands, and suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I haven't worked a day in my life, what good will I be in an arena with trained killers?

Haymitch seems to think for a moment. "You'll have to learn. I'm assuming you know how to present yourself, your daddy being the mayor. Play that as your strength. And pretty boy over here can fight, apparently. What can you do?" He turns to Gale this time. Gale hesitates before answering, "I can hunt; I'm good with a knife."

"But you sure as hell have no people skills. Both of you, get up and stand over there." We follow his instruction and he spends a good ten minutes analyzing us. Our bodies, our skills, everything.

"The good news is, you're a good looking bunch. The Capitol loves that."

He runs a hand through his golden hair, and sticks it out to us, a handshake. "I'll make you a deal right now. You don't interfere with my drinking, you do what I say, and I'll stay sober enough to give you a few good tips." I smile and shake his hand. "I'm up to that." Gale also shakes his hand, his face still hard as stone. "Sure."

"Now, this train will stop in ten minutes. You get out and meet your stylists. I want you to let them do as they please, and you suck it up." And without a second thought, he has his 'coffee' and he's gone.

I turn to Gale, who remains silent. "Thanks, for sticking up for me back there." He stares at me for a moment, his eyes piercing, before looking back at his feet. "Madge... I'm sorry. You know, about breakfast the other day."

I'm shocked. I can't control myself; I just run up and hug him. He stands in my arms for a moment, then his arm reaches around and pats my back lightly. I blush and step back. "I'm sorry, I couldn't-"

"It's fine."His ears are red and he rubs the back of his head.

"Gale." He looks back at me.

"I'm sorry that you're here, I mean, at the games." My voice is quiet, and I watch as his eyes suddenly darken. We stand silently for a while, and I almost regret saying anything, when he suddenly speaks.

"I hate this. The games, leaving my family, leaving my friends. I mean, when I saw that girl from 11, all I could think of was my sister, Posey. I think about it at night, how one day it could be her, or Vick, or Rory. It drives me insane... And now, we go to the capitol. We see the people with their bright hair and their fancy food. Well, I wish they would just piss off. I was fine without them. _We_ were fine without them."

I don't know what to say; Gale hasn't spoken more than a few words to me, and suddenly he just lets the words stream out. I want to tell him to stop speaking about such things when I _know _that a camera is watching us, yet I know that he won't care. Instead, I do the only thing I can. I hug him, again.

His posture remains rigid, and his arms hang to his sides. Yet, his head slowly falls into my neck, and I stand on the tips of my toes to properly reach him.

"You'll see them again. I promise."

My words are grave.

Neither of us speak; Gale knows that I won't make it as much as I do, and I don't believe that there are really any words to express what that meant.

"We're here." He's pulled back from my arms, his eyes focused behind me.

I turn to look, and my breath is caught in my throat.

Buildings upon buildings line the railway, each made entirely of glass, or shaped to be a cone. People with strange hair and coloured skin line the sidelines, and I begin to wave.

Gale stands behind me, and appears to be unsure of what he should do. I usher him closer to the window, and wave for the both of us.

Finally, the train comes to a standstill, and a voice announces our arrival.

"Welcome, tributes of District 12, to the Capitol."

* * *

**I'm sorry it took so long! I've been experiencing a mix of sickness, schoolwork, and writers block! I hope you enjoy this chapter, because next chapter will be a bit more eventful. (: I also know that Gale is a little bit OOC, but I'm assuming that nobody would be in their right of mind in such a horrible situation.**

**I can't promise instant updates, because I usually spend anywhere from 1-3 days writing it, and 1 day editing. :P**

**Thanks to the awesome reviewers, and thanks for reading!**  
**x**


	3. Fire with a Dash of Rebellion

I don't think I've ever seen so much white.

Everything in the preparation room is a blinding white; the walls, the floor, the roof, even the cabinets. My head pounds, and I rub at my temples to soothe my tired eyes.

I'm not able to look into a mirror once my prep team has dealt with me, so instead I sit silently, my focus ranging from the white walls to the flickering lights and then to the smooth surface of my legs. I run my hands over the pale skin and recall the stinging pain which lead to this. Wincing, I look back up at the white, imagining who my stylist will be.

I see a man with spiked red hair and glittering skin. That is, if he's anything like my prep team.

Minutes pass slowly, until the door opens with a small click.

I look to my right, seeing a man step into the room. He's incredibly simple, with short brown hair and muddy green eyes. Once he's standing in front of me, I notice the golden makeup penciled onto his eyes, highlighting their colour. He looks over me once with those eyes, before resting them on my face.

"Hello, Madge. My name is Cinna, I'm going to be your stylist for the games."

I smile back, "Lovely to meet you." He nods silently, his eyes focused on what I believe is the wall behind me. Almost instantly he has a lock of my hair in one of his hands, running a finger over a few strands, before letting it drop back onto my shoulder. "You have beautiful hair, you don't usually find naturally white hair in Panem."

I thank him quietly, not quite sure of what I should say. Looking down, I allow him to finish analyzing my every curve, or lack thereof. In a quick moment he's passing me my robe, and I'm relieved to be wearing it again.

Cinna motions for me to follow him, and we walk into a much more colourful room, this time with comfortable chairs and a large glass window looking on into the capitol. He invites me over to one of the sofas, and once we're situated he presses a strange blue button protruding from the side of the table in front of us. Instantly, a small feast lifts itself up onto the table, and the sweet scent of cinnamon and apples invades my senses. I eye the large pie, and my mouth waters.

_No_, this isn't the time to eat, this is business time. I know that I'll need to gain as many sponsors as I can in order to survive. I see no possibility in doing that through my physical strengths and skills, I'm no Gale. I've never had to fight for anything in my life; not for food, not for family, and most definitely not for my own life.

My decision has already been made for me, by Haymitch. I'm going to be charming in order to survive. I'll twist my hair through my fingers and bat my eyelashes at the crowds.

"You're worried."

Cinna's voice cuts through my trance. I hear myself laugh, and the noise shocks me; it's bitter, almost as if it couldn't come from sweet little Madge Undersee's mouth.

"Cinna, I have good reason to be worried. I'm going to die in a week." He laughs, and I'm confused. How on earth is this funny?

"Madge, you're not going to die."

I scoff at this, and he continues, "You're smart, and I'm willing to bet that you're a fast learner. I'm willing to bet on _you_." My hand finds my pin, and for the first time since the reaping, I feel the slightest glimmer of hope. Cinna's support has been the most significant support I've received from anyone this far into the games. Of course, there was Katniss and my parents, but to receive support from someone who has only just met me, it's given me confidence.

Cinna claps his hands together and walks over to a shelf, grabbing a strange black garment. "Now, this year Portia and I were thinking complementary costumes. Stylists of the past have covered every type of mining outfit I can possibly imagine. I was thinking of something a little bit _different _this year, something like coal." I imagine going through the ceremony covered in nothing but a thin layer of coal, and as soon as I picture Gale in a similar outfit, I blush profusely.

Turning with the dark fabric in his hands, Cinna looks back up at me. "So tell me, Madge, what does one do with coal?" I think back to my childhood, when I'd steal pieces of coal from the fireplace so that I could draw with them. Though, I was quite sure that art wasn't quite the answer Cinna wanted from me. "You burn coal, for fuel." I answer, still picturing the little blonde girl trying to draw a black sun.

"Correct. Now answer another question for me, Madge. What do you think of fire?"

* * *

_Why? _I ask myself, as I take my place in the chariot.

It was meant to be simple, a black unitard, lace boots, and a matching cape and headdress. Simple. Apparently, Cinna will have none of that. No, he needs _fire_.

All in all, I understand the message of our costumes. We're meant to be a deadly team, as powerful as fire itself. Yet, I still see myself being cooked to a crisp in front of the entire capitol. Cinna assures us that it's not real fire, and it's clear that Gale is as skeptical as I am.

We stand side by side, completely silent; no words are needed. Moments before we leave, Cinna comes to stand next to me.

"Madge, I want you to keep your head held high. Let them remember you exactly as you are. Madge, the girl who was on fire." My skin tingles as he calls me that; _the girl who was on fire_. The name is so powerful, so unlike me.

He nods and retreats back to Portia, where the two begin to discuss the audience's reactions. I begin to feel uncomfortable, and I look back ahead at the gates. My throat feels raw and I try to swallow.

I nearly choke when Gale speaks, "I think I might be sick." I chuckle softly and look through the corner of my eye. "You and I both, just promise that if my hair catches fire you'll be the one to put out the flames." His mouth twists into a boyish grin, "As long as you do the same." I nod, and we're told to get ready.

Our stylists quickly light fire to our costumes, and I feel myself breathing a sigh of relief once I'm positive that I'm still alive. Cinna laughs lightly, "It works." He stops for a moment, and I see it in his eyes, he has an idea.

"I want you to hold hands."

I look to Gale for guidance, though he clearly hasn't heard what Cinna said. As the chariot suddenly lurches forward, I take his hand in mine. He pulls at his hand, looking at me incredulously.

"What the-"

All I can do is point back to Cinna, who's giving us a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Gale relaxes his hand in mine, hesitantly. I can see that he's uncomfortable, and I tell him to relax.

"You can't let them see that you're unhappy. Just pretend." He doesn't say a word, but I see that he's trying to do better.

The chariot runs through a long tunnel, and the only light we have is our flames. As soon as we're out of the tunnel, we're surrounded by the strangest crowd of people I've ever seen. They scream our names and throw out their manicured hands, though they'd never reach us. In the beginning I can't smile; I'm shocked at the sheer magnitude of it all, but eventually my hand is waving through the air and my mouth aches from grinning so much.

Throughout the whole mess, I only manage to catch a glance at Gale. He's standing there, looking ahead. He doesn't make a single move, and I know that nothing will change that.

Finally, we pull into the city circle, and it's time for me to win the crowd. As we enter behind District 11, the crowd suddenly explodes as we enter, and I look up onto the screen. I stand there, flames flying behind me, and at that very moment my heart skips a beat. I'm not Madge Undersee, mayor's daughter; I'm Madge Undersee, _the girl on fire. _

I know that Gale is still rigid beside me, and I know that I need to do something in order to get us better sponsors. Despite his little cooperation, I lift our clasped hands between us, and look into the cameras. And once I'm sure that Gale is mimicking my actions, I'm sure of something. We are a team to be feared; we are District 12.

* * *

As soon as we're in the training center Gale unclasps his hand from mine, and I massage the blood flow back into my tingling fingers. Almost instantaneously, prep teams begin to hound at our chariot, praising the fiery designs. I look around at the other districts, smiling once I see the jealousy in their eyes; we did well.

My smile falters as I pass District 2's chariot; the male tribute looks ready to jump me, and the female seems to be on the same page. They aren't happy with being upstaged.

I hardly notice when Cinna and Portia make their way through the giggling crowd of people, and over to our chariot. With nothing more than a short warning, they begin to spray us with a strange spray that smells like mint. Our flames eventually disappear, and we can step down from the chariot.

As we do, Gale comes around to stand next to me. "What was that? What you did back there?" His voice is a deep growl, and I feel a chill soak my spine.

"What did I do, Gale? Get us more sponsors? I'm so _very_ sorry about that. It's not my fault that I can't just stand around and watch _you _stand around." With the last word, I go into the corner of the room, where an excited Effie and a frustrated Haymitch stand.

Effie claps for me once I'm standing in front of her, and even Haymitch stops to look up and throw a small grin onto his face. "Gotta give it to ya, kid, ya did good." I thank them both, also happy with how everything went.

I hear Gale step up from behind me, and Effie goes out of her way to compliment his 'strong' appearance. Haymitch doesn't look quite as kind though, yet surprisingly he doesn't say a word.

Soon, we're all lead over to an elevator, where we're told to go up 12 floors. The elevator ride is spent listening to Effie gossip about the fabulous things the commentators have to say about us.

"They think you're absolutely lovely, they have nothing bad to say! And Gale has become the epitome of mystery, so romantic!" I silently thank the heavens once we reach the correct floor.

The apartment is gorgeous, and I can't focus on any particular item. My room itself is probably the size of the upper floor of my entire house back in District 12, and I spend a good while trying to understand the various inventions lying around. The shower is the most difficult of all of the appliances, but once I've understood the basic manoeuvres, I'm soaking underneath the warm water. Once I'm clean and dressed, I stifle a yawn. My day has been long, and I find myself dreading tomorrow.

Dinner is soon, though my stomach feels full. I exit and make my way to the dining room, where I take a seat around a large table that is suited for 15. Eventually, everyone is sitting around the table, even our stylists. I listen to their dull chatter as I partake in a serving of halibut, waiting for any talk of strategy.

I watch avoxes silently tiptoe back and forth over the white carpets, never spilling a drop of wine, and I pity the poor servers; condemned to live in the capitol, under their rules, without the ability to speak a single word. I find myself thinking of Trya Dennvus, a girl one year my senior. I remember her being taken away from our district last year, escorted in a beautiful white car that could have only been capitol owned. Nobody in my school had fully known why she had been taken, but rumors had been spreading that she had been pregnant. The story was not questionable, as teenage pregnancies were incredibly frowned upon in Panem.

I eat the rest of my meal in silence, not once looking up. The thought of Trya makes my head ache, and the room begins to feel hot. Finally, I stand from my seat.

"May I be excused?"

Effie looks up in shock, and looks towards the others as some sort of verification. Eventually, she nods her head, and stands as well. "We may as well all finish up! If we hurry, we may even catch a replay of the ceremonies!"

Soon we're all sitting in front of the television, watching Gale and I ride through the capitol, coated in fire. I look across the room, watching him, and the way his eyebrows begin to crease after a while of watching us on the screen. Suddenly, he looks towards me, and we catch eyes. My face grows a bright red, and I look back at the screen, embarrassed to have been caught staring at him.

Effie's squeal is what brings me back, though, and I come to realize that Gale and I have just lifted our arms. Haymitch claps Gale on the back, and this seems to bring him back from whatever trance he was in. Haymitch's voice echoes throughout the room. "That's about the only thing ya did right, boy."

Gale's eyes narrow, and Haymitch looks back at our intertwined arms.

"This is just what the ceremonies needed, a nice touch of rebellion."

* * *

**_I'm sorry it took me so long! I've been reading nonstop lately, and I haven't really spent any time writing. I also felt a bit of writers block, but nothing that music couldn't fix. (: I've also had to catch up on homework (which I'm still doing)._**

**_Anyways, excuses aside, it got finished eventually. I may re-edit this a few times, by the way. It's 1 AM, and I have no clue what the quality will be like in the morning. :P_**

**_But for now, please review!_**

**_UPDATE: All chapters re-edited, a year later. I hope to update with a new chapter within the next two days. I have work all week, so we'll see how long it takes me to not only write a new chapter, but to also update it to my needs. :P_**

**_Thanks (: x_**


	4. The Rooftop

It's much later in the evening when I see Gale ascend the steps to the rooftop.

I hear the door close behind him and almost instantly run to the steps. Silently, I climb each stair until I'm standing at the door. Placing my hand on the doorknob I carefully crack the door open.

Gale is looking over the side of the building, his arms leaning off of the metal rail that circles the top of the building.

The wind is strong, and I shiver as the draft blows over my arms, raising the hairs on them. Knowing that the wind is loud enough to mask my presence, I walk out and quietly close the door behind myself. For a moment, I just stand—staring. I watch Gale run his hands through his rough hair, and I watch the muscles move on his back as he shakes, transfixed.

Gale is strong. I have no doubt that he'll be one of the first to become a career, and I can't help but imagine the power he'd hold with a sword in his hands. I also can't help but imagine said sword going through my stomach. The thought sends another shiver throughout my body.

Then, he turns. The movement is sharp and I can see his fists clench as he sees me standing by the doorway. His face goes pale and for a moment I can see something in his eyes, only for a moment. Then, the look is gone, and he's turned back around.

I search for something to say, embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Gale…"

I can't find the words, so I leave my silence hanging.

It's Gale that speaks again.

"What do you want, Madge?" His voice is nearly silenced by the whistling of the wind, yet I can still hear the hitch in his words. He's been crying.

It's at this moment that I regret coming onto the roof; I feel intrusive, standing there as my district partner cries.

But I can't just ignore it.

"Gale, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. What do you want?" He still hasn't turned.

I take a few steps forward and almost run back, aware of the overwhelming stillness.

"I saw you come up, I was curious."

He scoffs, his hands leave the rail, and then he's turned to me. I can see the light redness in his eyes, the dark blotches on his cheeks.

"Look, if you need to talk…" I pause for a moment, "Well, I won't tell anyone about it. Nobody has to know."

He looks at my face for a moment, and then he's laughing. It's cold, and a chill runs down my back.

"Don't patronize me."

"What? I'm not patronizing anyone, Gale! I was jus-"

"You don't know a thing about me, so stop pretending. We're not friends, okay? We never will be." His voice is as cold as his laughter.

I begin to plead, "I'm not pretending!"

"You should really learn to leave me alone, Madge. All you ever do is care, and you should stop."

This time around I'm the one who almost laughs. Is he really being serious?

"I don't see why it's such a crime to care, Gale! I mean, we have so little to hang onto in these games, so I don't see why it's _so_ horrible for me to try to become your friend. Why won't you just talk to me?" The words fly out of my mouth and I know that I've said something wrong once I see the look on his face. His eyes are squinted and he steps beside me, looking me in the eye.

"Stop trying to be my friend, Madge. Because I'm going to win these games, and when I do—well—I won't let you weigh me down. Stay away."

Then he's gone.

* * *

Usually I'd cry. But I don't.

I stand outside for a few moments and take in the night's air, thinking over what's been said.

Gale wants to win. I need to be out of the picture for that to happen. Gale wants me out of the picture.

I don't know why I'm surprised; everyone entering the games wants to win, it's a part of life. Gale just wants to get back to his family, to Katniss.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't want the same things. Except my family didn't rely on me, and the few friends I had probably would be able to move on without me.

"I really am useless."

I'm speaking over the side of the building, watching the people scattered about in the street below.

Nobody is even there to tell me that I'm wrong.

* * *

After the fight, things are glum. I feel hopeless whenever I think about the games and I feel hurt that I've lost my only potential friend in the competition.

Effie remains as exuberant as usual, running around and keeping things on the right track. Haymitch has retired to his room for a majority of our stay so far, and I can only pray that he's been planning our game plan. Though, the smell that emanates from his room argues otherwise.

Gale isn't much better.

I don't think I've ever met anyone as good at hiding away as Gale Hawthorne; he's managed to avoid me at almost all costs, only showing his face in my presence to quickly grab food and water. Even then, his eyes are firmly planted on the task in front of him.

And although it's only been two days, it's felt a whole lot longer.

I eat my meals nearly alone, save for a small avox girl who seems to appear every time I enter the dining room. Sometimes I even find myself slipping up and saying something to her, only to have her stand hesitantly, mouth closed tightly. I always seem to forget that she can't speak back.

It's the day of training that I finally get a response from the small girl.

I'm in the middle of breakfast when I accidentally spill my tea all over myself. Kicking my chair back I gasp in shock and grab my napkin in order to clean up the mess. But she's there instantly, wet cloth in hand. I try to help her, my hands trembling as they hold my napkin.

She cleans quickly and efficiently, and the mess is gone within two minutes. I sit back down in my chair, sighing. "I'm sorry."

She stands still again, like always. Her back is straight and she fumbles lightly with the dirty cloth in her hand. Quietly, she points her hand towards mine.

"My hand?" I'm puzzled, and I look down at it. Small burns cover it, contrasting against my pale skin. I suppose that in the rush it had never really occurred to me that my hand was burnt.

Reluctantly she takes my other hand in hers, pulling me upwards and leading me to the left of the room. A small door sits in the corner. Opening the door, she leads me inside. As soon as we walk in it becomes obvious that I'm not meant to be there. Strange contraptions line the walls and a small table sits at the far end of the room. Food is brewing on a strange form of stove and in the corner a mixer is carefully whipping away at a pale yellow sauce.

This isn't just the kitchen, though. A small row of hooks is behind the table, and each hook holds items particular to each of the staff. To the left of the hooks is a small hallway with multiple doorways. This is the servant's quarters.

It suddenly occurs to me that this is how the Avox girl is able to enter the dining room so silently.

Maneuvering her way around the many machines that line the walls she makes her way to the sink. Reaching into a cupboard beside it she pulls out a small blue bottle: medicine. Coming back, she opens the lid and drips a small bit onto her hand. Gently taking my injured hand, she begins to rub the pasty substance onto my burns. The effect is almost instant, and I hear myself let out a small sigh of relief.

"Thank you for helping me. You're the first one so far." Her eyes lock with mine and for a moment the sheer color overtakes me; blue as the ocean. She looks away, her hand rubbing more ointment onto mine.

"What's your name?" I've said it before I can think, and I regret the action once I see the frown on her lips. "I know you can't say it, but if there's any way you could write it-" Suddenly, her hand has left mine, and she's stood up. Her finger points to the door and I understand that I should leave.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." She points again, her head turned away from mine. My eyes burn, and I quickly mutter an embarrassed 'thank you' before running out of the room.

Suddenly everything comes crashing down. All of the loneliness, all of the fear, all of the confusion. Tears blur my vision, and I wipe away at my eyes, trying to remain calm.

I run into the dining room, and am almost out of the door when I run into Gale.

* * *

**I know it's really short, and I'm sorry. I just felt like I needed to get an update out there. I'm going to start working on the continuation right this second!**

**I just know how much it sucks to wait. :P**

**Either way, thanks for the awesome reviews, and thanks for stopping by to read my story!:D**

**x**


	5. The Career Pack

_Oof!_

My body has slammed into Gale's before I can stop myself and suddenly we're tangled together on the floor.

Instantly, he's sat on my torso and my arms are held back in a vice-like grip.

"What the hell, Undersee?" His voice is raised slightly higher than usual and his eyes are large and wild as he takes in my appearance. "Jesus Christ, don't jump out at me like that!"

I try to pull my arms away from his grip, but my efforts are in vain; Gale's hold on my wrists is too tight. They'll be bruised, no doubt.

For a moment he's glaring at me, and I turn my face away, almost as if doing so would prevent him from seeing my tears. With his hold still strong on my arms, he takes his other hand to grab my chin and turn my head towards his again.

"You're crying." He blinks, lightening the hold on my arms. His eyes study mine, I stare for a moment before turning my eyes away from his.

"RThe tightneseally? I _didn't_ notice."

"Why?" His voice is significantly quieter, and for a moment I amuse the idea that he may be concerned. Only for a moment.

I don't speak, the last thing I need is for Gale Hawthorne to think that I'm weak.

"Madge, why in god's name are you crying?" I nod my head, no. I refuse to tell Gale, I just won't. All I can think about it how I need his arms off of mine. I need to get away.

The plan comes to me in a sudden rush and I don't take the time to deliberate what I'm about to do, I just wait for my chance.

"Madge, I'm serious." His hand lifts my chin further, and I open my eyes to look into his. Blue meets grey- my eyes dare him to ask again, and his eyes seem held in place.

This is my moment.

With a quick jerk of my head I place my lips roughly on his, eyes closed tightly. He doesn't respond at first, but after a moment or two he's moved his lips to match mine. If I wasn't so distracted by his hands moving to touch my face, I probably would have taken note of the familiarity of it all. The comfort of his lips on mine.

I take my chance, moving back quickly and scurrying away from under him. I crawl away from his large figure on all four limbs, moving a safe distance before gaining my footing and exiting the compartment with a speed I didn't know I possessed.

I don't look back, he doesn't follow.

* * *

I lock my door as I enter my bedroom, the rush of endurance still running through my system. Breathing deeply I turn back to my door and place my head against it, enjoying the cold surface against the heat of my skin.

I can't seem to think straight, I can't even bring myself to regret the kiss.

I don't think about training later on, or the fight on the rooftop; all I can think about is the warmth of Gale's lips on mine and the slight smell of smoke that won't seem to leave my senses.

Sitting down, I try to collect myself. It's almost as if I'm determined to be angry, or to feel something other than the warmth that has resided over my body, but my mind is overwhelmed and all I manage to do is fall back.

"Crap!"

It's been ten minutes and I feel as if the day's events have suddenly settled at the pit of my stomach.

Kissing my district partner was not part of the plan, whatever that plan was.

And then there was the Avox girl who had tried to help me.

Looking down at my hand I see that the burns are gone, leaving my skin as pale as it had previously been. I should have just left it be, I shouldn't have meddled in her life. I shouldn't have meddled with the Capitol.

As a child I was always encouraged to be obedient to the Capitol; my father was an important man and I couldn't afford to ruin anything for his sake. But now, it's for my sake. For my survival.

Unless I have the Capitol on my side I'm nobody in these games.

* * *

Lunch is served and the atmosphere is strained. Gale has kept to his plate, his knife digging restlessly into some cow's meat . Effie sits at the head of the table patiently, having already eaten. Haymitch has an observant eye on Gale and I and a cup of coffee in his hands.

And me, I'm just trying to finish my meal as quickly as possible.

I'm getting up to leave the table when Haymitch grabs my wrist, and I wince at the action. The hold on my wrist is all too familiar to me.

"Don't start walking away so quickly, princess. We've got some things to discuss." I sit back down and Haymitch begins, "Okay. Training. Together or seperately?"

"Seperately." Gale's voice is low and he looks straight at Haymitch, his back rigid. I suppose that he's feeling the same way as I do about our kiss.

"What's the difference?" I know that it's pointless; Gale won't allow me to weigh him down, but I need to know why it's so crucial that he trains alone.

"Pretty boy here might have a skill that he doesn't want you knowing about. What is it, boy? It couldn't be your dazzling smile could it?" Gale's face is straight, but the anger is reflected in his eyes; Haymitch's sarcasm is not appreciated.

"He can hunt. And he knows a few plants as well. Him and Katniss always bring me strawberries from the meadow." A glare is sent my way. "Also, he knows how to set snares. Katniss always tells me about it." Haymitch is interested, his hand goes to his chin for a moment as he thinks, "Perfect, I want you working on weaponry, boy. I think that you have potential as a career. Play a hard edge, I want you to be terrifying. Got it?" Gale nods, already aware of this fact.

Now Haymitch turns to me, and I already know most of what he's going to say. "Sweetheart, you work on survival. Maybe learn to use a weapon or two just in case, but make sure you have survival down. You're going to come off as innocent, charming. You have to win the hearts of the Capitol if you want to stay safe."

I nod and smile, excusing myself from the table. Haymitch's voice echoes behind me.

"Training's in an hour!"

* * *

The training room is spacious and open. Stations circle the room, reminding me of the vendors that line the Hob. After we've listened to Atala explain the different stations I look around for one to join, hoping to find something that I may have experience in, or perhaps a friendly face.

Everyone seems closed off, each at seperate stations. That is, except for the careers. I see Gale laughing and throwing spears with the boy from District 1- Marvel- and beside them are a small group including the girl from District 1, and the entirety of District 2. The sight of them together is sickening, and I turn away.

I can't help but wonder if Katniss would want Gale with the careers. Would she want to see her best friend with a pack of cold-blooded killers, tributes who actually amuse the idea of killing others?

No, I don't think she would.

* * *

It turns out that I have a natural talent in survival skills, though my specialty lies in those that rely on memory. Snares and plant recognition are particularily effortless.

Lunch comes and goes, and I've soon gone around to half of the survival stations. My painting is less than acceptable, but I'm able to start a fire within ten minutes and that makes up for any shortfallings.

As lunch ends we head back into the training room, and I head straight to the weapons. I have no clue what I'm going to try first, but it needs to be small. I stand for a moment, eyeing the stations, when I hear someone walk up behind me.

"Try knives." Gale stands beside me, his figure shadowing mine and his arms crossed intimidatingly.

"I don't need your help, Gale."

He scoffs, "Whatever you say, Undersee."

Knives _would_ be best. Small, agile, close and far combat.

Dammit, Gale.

I glare at him as I walk to the knives station, and his lips raise into a smug grin. He remains for a moment and then walks away, arms still crossed.

* * *

My third knife pelts into the dummy's leg and I groan. "I'm never going to get it! I'm hopeless, absolutely hopeless. It barely even stayed in!"

The trainer, Levin, walks up. "It's simple Madge, don't think about it so much. Just position yourself as I told you to, and _whoosh_, throw your knives." He positions my body in the proper form again, and hands me a few knives.

I try again, and again, and again. Constantly positioning and re positioning myself as if it may change my luck.

I hit the dummy's chest on my eighth go, and that's where we end off for the day.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Levin. Hopefully I'll gain some talent overnight." Waving goodbye to the hulking man I head back to the elevator that will return me to my floor.

I'm exhausted. I'd never expected something that seemed so simple to be so demanding. I'd seen the girl from District 2 throwing her knives, and her form was perfect. She was deadly.

I wasn't even half of the threat that she was. And I know that if, by some strange circumstance, it came down to the two of us I'd be screwed. Royally.

But I'll practice, even if the attempt will be futile in the end.

And maybe if I'm lucky she'll be picked off by somebody else. Maybe I can learn to get by through basic survival; hiding away in a cave has worked in the past.

Yet, in the end I'll have to fight. I might even have to fight Gale. The stomach twists at the thought: fighting my district partner. My large, brutal district partner. Could I really take the light away from those grey eyes?

Could I really take the breath that brushes at his lips?

I've known since square one that I could never do that.

* * *

I've trained the entire week, and the time has come to meet the gamemakers.

As each name is called I find my head growing lighter, and my hands shake in terror. I'm not ready for this.

Gale is called and I grasp my head in my hands, breathing deeply. I've spent the last two days devising a plan for my performance with Haymitch, yet I remain terrified.

He returns with a smug grin on his face. Walking to the careers he proceeds to gloat about his "perfect stance" and "amazing throw".

I can do this.

My name is called and I walk through the doors, entering a room with a large amount of dummies, weaponry and just about anything else a tribute could need. The judges stand in a section at the back, feasting on pig's meat and chatting among themselves.

Only two of the judges notice my entrance, and with a quick glance at my unpromising frame they return to their task-at-hand. I roll my eyes and walk to the center of the room.

"Madge Undersee, female tribute for District 12." A few turn their heads, and one man in particular walks up to the microphone: Seneca Crane. I've seen the famous Head Gamemaker in many of the Capitol's forms of media, and his strange facial hair instantly differs him from the others judges.

"Ms. Undersee, your introduction is unnecessary. We _were_ the ones who summoned you, do you recall?" My face heats up as the other judges laugh at the comment. I merely nod, and begin my performance.

I begin simply and build a large fire in the center of the room. Looking up, I notice that the attention of the judges is focused on the rather large diamond that adorns one of the female judge's finger. I'm furious. I didn't work this hard to be ignored.

I know that my approach is to play it weak, but I need to get their attention.

So, I do.


End file.
